


Declaration of Love

by DracoWinchester7237



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWinchester7237/pseuds/DracoWinchester7237
Summary: Dean is hurt after a job, Cas wants to help and neither of them really know how.





	Declaration of Love

**Author's Note:**

> So here's a thing I did in the middle of the night last night. I've been working on various Destiel fics for awhile and this is the one that really stuck with me so good for you guys! let me know what you think! if you liked it if you didn't. love you all!

Dean was covered in blood and dirt and sweat when he stumbled into the dimly lit bathroom. His open wounds burned like fire, but that wasn’t what had dead gripping at the edges of the countertop, turning his knuckles white.

  
He had almost lost. He had almost lost everything in one hunt. Something that was meant to be a simple salt and burn case just a few towns over. A ‘back before dinner’ type of gig. They were wrong. It had been a long time since a job had Dean so shaken. But Dean knew that there was no coming back. That the next time any of them died, that was it. And Dean would rather go back to hell than lose Cas and Sam for good.

  
Unwelcome memories of Cas lying dead at his feet overlapped with the images of this last hunt, of Cas crawling away from the demon. Of him whimpering in pain. It was his fault. Dean knew it was his fault, none of them were ready to go on another hunt. They were all still so raw from everything they had lost in apocalypse world, but Dean had been so stubborn. He couldn't just sit around and of course, they weren't going to let him go on a hunt alone. And Cas almost died for it.  
It was as if the angel could tell Dean was thinking about him, and to be fair he probably could, Cas appeared behind him. Dean didn't look up from the sink, he didn't have to. He could feel Cas in the room with him, everything grew warmer.

  
“Dean, you need to clean your wounds, let me help you.” Dean almost started laughing, almost. He had all but forgotten about the long gashes that ran across his chest or the cut on his head that painted half his face red.

  
“I'm fine,” Dean grunted, turning on the sink and splashing a bit of cold water on his face.

  
“No Dean, you're not.” Dean sighed and grabbed the hand towel lying abandoned on the counter to pat his face dry and turned to face Cas, trying to keep his face as straight as possible.  
Cas peeled Dean’s shirt over his head and Dean choked on a whimper as the shredded material clung to his exposed flesh. Cas took the towel from Dean’s hands and without meeting his eyes, began to clean around the wounds. Dean’s eyes fell closed. It was hard to look at Cas without feeling overwhelmed with the guilt of it all, at least Cas had been able to heal. Dean grunted as the towel swiped right over the end of one of the scratches.

  
“Sorry,” Cas said, removing the Cloth.

  
“S’okay,” Deans opened his eyes. “So what do ya say doc, am I good to go?” Dean smirked and started to walk past Cas.

  
“Dean, you need to rest until I can regain enough strength to heal you.” Dean ignored Cas and headed into his bedroom finding a clean white shirt and forcing it over his head, pretending it didn't feel like fire.

  
“I'm fine Cas,” Dean said once he managed to get both arms into their sleeves.

  
“You’re still covered in blood.’ Cas grabbed Dean by the wrist and practically forced him to sit on the bed. “Stay here, I will be right back.” Dean wasn't going to protest, not that he would have had time to. When Cas left he took his warmth with him. Dean wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself behind his locked door. But he knew that a locked door wouldn't stop Cas. So he sat and waited.

  
He didn't have to wait long before Cas was coming through the door with another damp cloth. Dean stayed seated as Cas hesitantly touched the towel to his head. It wasn't a bad feeling, letting Cas take care of him like this. He couldn't say he wasn't used to Cas trying to take care of him, Dean just usually didn't let him this much, but it was nice. Dean found himself unable to look away from the angel as he worked, which only fed his guilt.

  
“I’m sorry I can't heal you,” Cas said taking a small step back. The once white towel in his hand was red with Dean’s blood and he figured the cut probably needed stitches if it was still bleeding.  
“I don't want you to,” Dean responded, standing up and taking the towel from Cas and throwing it into the corner of his room.

  
Dean was used to pain. Hell, it was practically a constant in his life. His wounds hardly ever healed from one job to another. It was a simple thing, there was nothing to think about. It was something that he deserved. Even if nobody but himself understood that.

  
“Dean,” Cas said angrily.

  
“Cas.” Dean sighed, he probably should have kept that detail to himself.

  
“You’re still bleeding.” Dean shrugged, which pulled on his chest making him wince. “Why don't you want to be healed?”  
Dean didn't say anything, what was there to say that would do anything less than start a fight. He looked away from the angel, unable to look at him anymore.

  
“You don't think you deserve it, do you?” Dean didn't have to be looking at Cas to know he was cocking his head to the side the way he always did when he didn't quite understand things. Dean closed his eyes against the urge to look at the angel.

  
“This wasn't your fault Dean.” Cas had a hand on his shoulder. The same shoulder that still held his handprint and Dean was again reminded of all the things Cas had done for him, all the things Cas sacrificed, and for what? For Dean to put him in danger over and over again?

  
“Wasn’t it? If I hadn't been so selfish, so careless-” Dean let his head drop, shaking it slightly and rubbing a hand over his face.

  
“No.” the word fell from Cas’s mouth like a hammer

  
“Cas I can't do this right now.” Dean felt his hand twitch at his side. He needed a drink and possibly to punch the hell out of his mirror.

  
“Dean look at me.” Dean did with a loud, forceful sigh. Cas was too close, always so close and overwhelming. Dean’s gaze flicked down to Cas’s lips and he swallowed hard.

  
“This isn't your fault, you didn't make me go, I chose to. And I’d do it again.” there was too much in Cas’s eyes.

  
“Leave me alone Cas.” if it was anyone else he would feel ashamed for the way his voice cracked and made it sound like he was begging.

  
“No, I'm not going to let you blame yourself for this.” Dean's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to hit something, he needed to hit something.

  
“Why the hell not?” he almost screamed at Cas, almost.

  
“Because Dean!” Cas’s voice rose to match Dean’s almost shout.

  
“Because why? Why Cas?” Dean's voice came in quick uneven pants and Cas looked away.

  
“Because I,” Dean flinched at the change in Cas’s voice. It sounded raw and painful and Dean turned away. Because he knew what he'd find in Cas’s eyes, the look he’d seen only a few times before. He knew what that felt like. The only person who had ever looked at him like that was… gone. Dean's hands shook at the idea.

  
“Cas..” Dean's voice broke, really broke. “Do you..” The question seemed impossibly stupid and obvious all at once. Dean squeezed his watery eyes closed. “Do you love me?” He whispered so quietly he hoped Cas hadn’t heard him, but he knew he did.

  
“Of course I do,” Cas answered immediately. Dean felt panic well up inside of him because the last person that told him that... The last person who he.. Dean couldn't take it. He lunged forward and slammed his fist into the mirror, awarding him with a satisfying shatter, before he turned back around to Cas who was watching his with big eyes. Dean’s breath was ragged and he grabbed Cas by the shoulders.

  
If Dean had ever imagined kissing Castiel it was only in the moments just before he fell asleep, or when he'd had more than too much to drink, or when he was staring into certain death. In all those moments he imagined it to be soft, gentle, everything that Dean wasn't. He imagined he'd kiss Cas slowly and syrupy and sweet.

  
But when Dean pressed his lips against Cas’s they were fierce and Claimed Dean’s like they were fighting a war. Dean pulled Cas in closer, mapping his mouth with his lips. His grip on Cas’s shoulders was hard enough to leave bruises on any human but Cas wasn't human, was he? Cas was an angel, his angel and Dean gripped him harder, pulling him flush with his body. Cas’s arms were around Dean’s neck pulling him down. And their lips were crushing and melding in between gasps for air.

  
Dean didn't remember moving, but he had Cas pinned between him and the wall, only that now Cas’s hands were pinned above his head in one of Dean’s and he was kissing down Cas’s neck and muttering “Angel” against his skin. It didn't matter that his chest was on fire and it didn't matter that his head was swimming because Cas was making the most ungodly noises around Dean’s name. And in that moment he loved Cas. He openly and visibly loved the angel and didn’t think about what that could mean for tomorrow.

  
In all the times that Dean imagined loving Cas, he imagined dates by candlelight, a white picket fence and an apple pie life. He imagined the life he'd only gotten a taste of. That's what Dean always thought love looked like.

  
But loving Cas changed nothing. He loved Cas in every grimy hotel room. He loved Cas in every broken bone and broken spirit and in every war they fought together. He loved Cas the way he lived.

  
Nothing really changed.

  
There was no public declaration of love.

  
It was Just Dean and Cas

  
An angel and the human he saved from Hell. 


End file.
